Love and All The Complications
by unpoisson
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Cato Greene should not be alive, well one of them shouldn't. Falling in love may have helped them in the Arena but they now have the most dangerous Games ahead. With whispers of a rebellion, one that Katniss and Cato may have help create, Snow is not happy. The stakes are higher than ever, can they come out on top again?
1. Chapter 1

**HEEEEEY! Welcome, welcome, to this years sequel! (see what I did there;) ) this is a sequel to my previous story _To Love The Enemy _which I strongly suggest you read before this, as some things will be crucial. Thank you too all those that have read it, and as you've waited long enough, HERE YOU GO DARLINGS x**

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**Chapter One  
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Once, I made the mistake of envying Haymitch . Posh house, too much money, a life of luxury. He could do what he liked, the Capitol automatically love him for he was the lone survivor.

Do they all envy me?

Almost six months has passed since the torturous events; however, still I have the nightmares. Single arrows pierce the neck of Peeta. Spears fly into the thigh of Cato. I feel myself being thrown to the ground as Clove takes death instead of me.

It is very uncommon for me not to be scared awake by memories, covers thrown off my private double bed as evidence of the thrashing about. Silk pyjamas sticking to my damp body. Eventually I am soothed back to sleep by my little sister, Prim. She would gently stroke my hair and sing the lullaby I used to sing to her when our situation was reversed.

As usual I sit up suddenly, I take a few minutes to calm myself down. Placing my head into my hands, breathing slowly and counting from one to ten. Just as Mother taught me. I glance through the window to my left, the sun is just beginning to rise above the grey lifeless sky.

Perfect.

I dress quickly pulling on the thick wool coat and leather gloves to keep the frost of a winters morning at bay. I all but sprint to the front door and slip into the machine-made shoes. I don't need to bother about telling anyone where I am. They know.

I resent where we live now. It takes a full half hour longer to get to my safe haven. I relax momentarily when I see the small square house appear. I let myself in and lean back against the door. Quickly I remove my wool coat and trade it for my father's old leather jacket. I slip out of the shoes and put on my soft, worn hunting boots. I grab the game back off the table and fling it across my back.

From here, it takes almost no time at all to arrive. I slip easily through alleys. I cross the meadow that creates yet another barrier between us and the outside. Guarding the District is a high chain-link fence that is supposed to be electrified 24 hours a day. The fence is used to keep dangerous animals out of the District. But really its a method of keeping us in. I pause briefly and listen. There is no tale-tell sound of the electric hum therefore I slip underneath a gap that's been loose for years.

Once into the safety of thick trees I retrieve my quiver of arrows and bow from a hollow log. Hunting is different now. I no longer need it to survive, instead I only continue to hunt to provide for Gale and his family. Without me, they would most defiantly struggle.

I start the hour-and-a-half trek it will take to cover our snare line. Before the Games, we had the afternoons to check the line and hunt and gather and still get back to trade in the Hob. But now that Gale works in the coal mines- and I have nothing to do all day- I've taken over the job. I don't know how he stands to work there. Well I do... He stands it because it's the only way he can provide for his mother and two brothers and sister. And I am here with buckets of money, more than enough to feed both of our families, yet he won't take a single coin. It's even hard for him to let me bring in the meat, even though I'm sure he would have done the same for my mother and Prim if I had been killed in the Games.

The only time I spend with Gale is on Sundays. When we meet up in the woods and hunt together. It's still the best day of the week, but it's not the same any more, when we could tell each other anything. The Games has spoiled even that.

I get a good haul from the traps and head back. By the time I make it back to the fence that surrounds District 12, the sun is well up. I wriggle through the opening and come up in the Meadow. I go to my old home, we still get to keep it since officially it's the residence of my mother and Prim. If I should drop dead now, they would have to return to it. But as of now, they're both happily installed in the new house in the Victor's Village.

When I arrive, I exchange my usual clothing to those that my mother deems more appropriate of someone of my new status. I've already stowed my bow and arrows in a hollow log in the woods.

The shoes pinch at my toes as I crunch along the cinder street. Cutting down alleys and through backyards gets me to Gale's house in minutes. His mother, Hazelle, comes to greet me at the door. She smiles when she sees the game. Unlike Gale she has no problem with our hunting arrangement. She pours me a mug of herb tea, which I wrap my chilled fingers around gratefully.

"When I'm back from the tour, I could take Rory into the woods and teach him to shoot." I say.

Hazelle nods. "That'd be good. Gale means to but he's only got his Sunday's. And I think he likes saving those for you."

I am more than grateful that Gale and I were still together as before. The only thing that has changed is Cato. It's true, many people about the District assumed I would eventually settle down and marry Gale. I too had begun to believe it. But the Games altered that in more ways than one.

Hazelle takes the game off me and immediately starts to prepare some for the casserole she has prepared for dinner. I leave quickly after saying goodbye and walk towards the Hob.

The Hob is the place that I used to do the bulk of my trading. Years ago it was used as a warehouse to store coal, but when it fell into disuse, it became a meeting place for illegal trades and then blossomed into a full-time black market.

Although I've never mentioned it. I owe the people who frequent the Hob. Gale told me that Greasy Sae started a collection to sponsor both Peeta and I during the Games. It was supposed to be just a hob thing, but word got around and eventually most people were chipping in. I don't know how much they raised, but even if it was just enough to send me some bread, I am grateful. Anything sent in to the Arena can save you from death.

Like always, it feels odd to be opening the front door with an empty game bag, having no intention of trading anything. This is one of the few times the coin bag against my hip feels most heavy. I pull my coat tighter around me, trying to hide it from view. Not because I'm scared someone would steal it; but because, I am embarrassed. I hate knowing that I have enough money to feed myself, Prim, mother,. Heck, it wouldn't surprise me if I could afford to buy the whole of District 12 a meal for at least a month. This is why when I visit, which for me, is everyday. I aim to spread my coinage evenly around the stalls. I buy three bottles of white liquor from Ripper, not for me, but for my mentor Haymitch. I also purchase coffee, eggs and oil for mother.

When I reach Greasy Sae's stall I perch on one of the counter tops and she passes me a bowl of what looks like bean and meat soup. A peacekeeper named Darius comes up and buys a bowl whilst I'm eating. As peacekeepers go, we have the best share in District 12. from what I've heard from conversations with Cato, ours are very laid back.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a train?" he asks me.

"They're collecting me at noon." I answer.

"Shouldn't you look a little better then?" he asks in a loud whisper. I cant help but smile at his teasing.

"Don't worry, by the time they're through with me. I'll be unrecognisable." I say.

"Good. Lets show the District a little pride for once Miss Everdeen." he says.

Darius walks off quickly to his peacekeeper friends and Greasy Sae tuts quietly about not getting the bowl back. Once I'm finished I place the bowl back on the side and jump down from the counter.

"Katniss." she calls, "Smile. It'll be over completely soon." she smiles to me.

A light snow begins to fall as I make my way to my last stop before the Victor's Village. The bell on the door announces my arrival and immediately he stands up from his small stool ready to serve his waiting customer.

"Miss Everdeen, what may you require today?" Mr. Mellark calls happily from the other side of the counter.

I smile to him. "Just a loaf today sir." I ask, "And, um, this." I stutter passing him over a bag of coins that I have insisted to pay him every week.

Mr. Mellark is Peeta's father. The very same Peeta who I, although unintentionally, murdered. He was quick to reassure me once I was home that he didn't blame me, that deep down he knew his son wasn't coming home. I remember the conversation immaculately. I remember the smell of his cotton shirt mixed with my tears when he pulled me into a comforting hug. I remember him whispering into my ear that he was grateful that it was me who killed him, that it was fast and not torturous as he was scared it would have been if it had been Cato or Clove, or anyone else.

This is my apology. Everyday I buy something from his bakery as well as forcing him to take the money, which could have possibly been Peeta's.

It's about a kilometre-long walk to the Victor's Village from his bakery, but it seems like another world entirely. It's a separate community built around a beautiful green, dotted with flowering bushes. There are twelve houses, each large enough to hold ten of the one I was raised in. ten stand empty, as they always have. The two in use belong to Haymitch and me.

The house inhabited by my family give off a warm glow of life. Lit windows, smoke from the chimneys, bunches of brightly coloured corn affixed to the front door as decoration for the upcoming Harvest Festival. Haymitch's house, however, despite the care taken by the groundskeepers exudes an air of abandonment and neglect.

The snow has begun to stick now and I leave a trail of footprints behind me. At the front door, I pause to knock the wet stuff off my shoes before I go in. my mother's been working all day to get the house perfect of the cameras, so it's no time to be tracking up her shiny floors. I've barely stepped inside and she's there holding out her arms as if to stop me.

"Don't worry, I'm taking them off!" I say, a huge smile on my face. I leave my shoes on the mat.

My mother gives an odd, breathy laugh and removes the game bag loaded with all my purchases from my shoulder. "It's just snow. Did you have a nice walk?"

"Walk?" She knows I've been in the woods most of the day and the hob the rest. Then I see the man standing behind her in the kitchen doorway. One look at his tailored suit and surgically perfected features and I know he's from the Capitol. "It was more like skating!" I fake laugh, "It's getting slippery out there."

"Someone's here to see you." says my mother. Her face is very pale and I can hear the anxiety that she's trying so desperately to hide.

"I thought they weren't due until noon?" I ask her confused. Cinna is never one to change plans at the last-minute, even if it does mean him being early. Not that I'd mind.

"This way please Miss Everdeen." says the man. He gestures down the hallway. It feels strange to be ushered around your own home, but I know better than to comment on it.

As I go in, I give my mother a reassuring smile over my shoulder. "Probably instructions for the tour," they've sent me all kinds of stuff about my itinerary and what protocol will be observed in each district. But as I walk towards the door of the study I feel my heart begin to race. _Why is mother so pale? What do they want?_

"Go right in," says the Capitol man, who has followed me down the hallway.

I twist the door knob and step inside. As soon as I smell the sent of roses mixed with blood I can register who it is.

A white-haired man is sitting behind the desk looking down, reading a book. He looks up when I walk in and place the book down on the mahogany desk.

What could he be doing here? He never leaves the Capitol; therefore, if he has made the journey down here, I am in trouble. Serious trouble. I look into his old eyes, that remind me so brilliantly of those of a snake, and feel a shiver down my spine.

"Miss Everdeen." he says politely. "I'm afraid we have run into a slight hitch."

I raise my eyebrows, "I don't understand," I croak, my throat has gone dry. I cough quickly to moisten it up.

"Your ordeal involving Mr. Greene has caused something of an outrage in other Districts." he says. Of course it has. Cato and I both survived, no other Games has allowed two winners. Families and friends of those who came 'second' must truly despise us the most. However no one had what he had, have even.

"I am truly sorry about that." I answer.

"Now some of the people of Panem are viewing your act with the knives as an act of defiance, not love. And if a mere girl of District 12 can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, why can't they? These thoughts can lead to uprisings Katniss. And uprisings can lead to a revolution."

"What do you want done." I ask weakly.

"I want you and Cato to contain it. Prove to every one of Panem, including myself that your act was done for love. Not defiance." he says, "Do that, and Prim, your mother, your cousins... may live."

I take a sharp intake of breath.

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**Thank you for reading, please leave me a review, follow, fav anything. Things will become juicer, oh and Cato may pop in next chapter for a bit x**


	2. Chapter 2

**so here we are then! Big thanks to all the reviews, favs and follows! Here you are my sweeties!**

Chapter 2

Snow leaves almost as quickly as I entered. I don't bother to move, I am fixed in the same spot. Outside I hear a car come to life, soft and quiet, then it fades away into the distance. It slips off as it arrived, unnoticed.

Districts on the verge of uprising. A direct threat to the lives of my loved ones. Who knows who else could die because of my actions. Unless I turn things around on the tour. How am I supposed to show everyone I love Cato more than what I already have? How can it not be obvious to them all. Why else would a career tribute not kill me when he got down to it being just us two. He saved my life, was that not proof enough.

I hear my mother's light, quick tread in the hall. I mentally make a note not to tell her, not this. Who knows how she would react to a death threat not only on her life, but o. Prim's as well.

"Is everything alright Katniss?" She asks.

"It's fine. We never see it on television, but the president always visits the victors before the tour to wish them luck, that's all." I say brightly.

I watch the paleness leave her face and the look of relief spread, "Thank goodness, I thought you were in trouble."

"No, not at all Mother." I say. "The trouble will start when my prep team realise I haven't maintained their grooming!" My mother laughs, and I think about how there was no going back after I took over caring for the family when I was eleven. How I will always have to protect her.

"Why don't I start your bath?" She asks.

"Great," I say, and I can see how pleased she is with my response.

I go upstairs to the bathroom, where a steaming tub awaits. My mother has added a bag of dried flowers and herbs that perfumes the air. None of us are used to the luxury of turning on a tap and having limitless supply of hot water at our fingertips. We only had cold water back at the Seam, and a bath meant boiling it over a fire.

I undress and lower myself into the silky water. Baths are the one place I feel able to relax and devour into my thoughts. I cannot tell anyone I will be leaving behind about my true encounter with Snow. However there are still people I can confide in. Cinna, my stylist. But I guess he may already be at risk for being the one who designed my controversy outfit. Then there's Cato. Of course I can tell him, after all it involves him as well. With his help we could possibly pull this off.

I slide down into the water, trying to physically block out my inner voice. Even underwater though, I cannot block out the sounds of commotion. Honking car horns, shouts of greetings and doors banging shut. It can only mean that my entourage has arrived. I just have enough time to towel off and slip into a robe before my prep team bursts into the bathroom.

"Katniss, what have you done to your eyebrows!" Viena shrieks, and even with the black cloud hanging over me, I have to stifle a laugh. Her aqua hair has been styled so that it sticks out in sharp points all over her head, and the gold tattoos that used to be confined above her brows have been curled around curled around under her eyes, all contributing to the impression I have shocked her.

Octavia comes up and pats Viena's back soothingly. "There, there. You can fix those in no time. But what am I going to do with those nails." She grabs my hands and begins flipping the over and over, "Really Katniss, you could have left me something to work with!" She sighs in disbelief.

It's true. I've bitten my nails to stubs in the last few days, all in anticipation of today and the future tour. "Sorry," I mutter.

The usher me into my bedroom and Flavius shoves me into a chair. As usual they start talking non-stop without bothering to notice if I'm listening. While Venia reinvents my eyebrows and Octavia gives me fake nails and Flavius massages goo into my hair, I hear all about the Capitol. What a hit the Games were, how dull things have been ever since, how no one can wait until Cato and I reunite once more and visit at the end of the Victory Tour. After that, it won't be long until the Capitol begins gearing up for the Quarter Quell.

"Isn't it thrilling?"

"Don't you feel so lucky?"

"In your very first year of being a victor, you get to be a mentor in a Quarter Quell!"

Their words overlap in a blur of excitement.

"Oh yes!" I say neutrally. It's the best I can do. In a normal year, being a mentor to the tributes is the stuff of nightmares. I can't walk to school without wondering whether I am walking in front, behind, beside the child I'll have to coach. But to make things worse, this is the year of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games, and that means it's also a Quarter Quell year. They occur every twenty-five years, marking the anniversary of the districts defeat with over-the-top celebrations and, for extra fun, some miserable twist for the tributes. I've never been alive for one, of course. But in school. I remember hearing that for the second Quarter Quell, the Capitol demanded that twice the number of tributes be provided for the arena. The teachers didn't go into much more detail, which is surprising, because that was the year that District 12's very own Haymitch Abernathy won the crown.

"Haymitch had better be preparing himself for a lot of attention!" Squeals Octavia.

Haymitch has never mentioned his personal experience in the arena to me. I would never ask. And if I ever saw his Games televised in reruns, I must've been too young to remember it. But the Capitol won't let him forget it this year. In a way, it's a good thing I am also available as a mentor during the Quell, because it's a sure bet that Haymitch will be wasted.

Soon my brows are stinging, my hair's smooth and silky, and my nails are ready to be painted. Apparently they've been given instructions to prepare only my hands and face, probably because everything else will be covered in the cold weather. They turn their attention onto colouring instead of redesigning, and I can see from the palette Cinna has assigned that we're going for girlish, not sexy. I have never been one to pull of the 'sexy' look, so I relax a bit.

My mother comes in, reserved and shy, and says that Cinna has asked her to show the preps how she did my hair the day of the reaping. They respond with enthusiasm and then watch, thoroughly engrossed, as she breaks down the process of the elaborate braided hairdo. In the mirror, I can see their earnest faces following her every move, their eagerness when it is their turn to try a step. In fact, all three are so readily respectful and nice to my mother that I feel bad how I go around feeling superior to them.

When my hair is finished, I find Cinna downstairs in the living room. He looks the same as always, simple clothes, short brown hair and a perfectly straight line of gold eyeliner. "Get dressed, I've arranged a surprise for you." He says.

A surprise?

He chucks me a bundle of clothes. Flowing black pants made of a thick warm material. A comfortable white shirt. A sweater made from woven green and blue and grey strands of soft wool. Laced leather boots, that for once, do not pinch my toes.

Just then, out of nowhere, Effie Trinket arrives announcing in her high-pitched over enthusiastic voice, "We're on schedule!"

She kisses me on both cheeks and then waves in the camera crew. Immediately I plant a big convincing, fake, smile onto my face, and return Effie's kisses with gratitude.

I realise suddenly that Cinna is trying to put a coat on me, so I raise my arms. Leather gloves and a multi coloured wool knitted scarf.

My mother quickly darts in and passes something to Cinna. He holds it out in my palm and I smile. Madge's mockingjay pin she gave me to be my district token. Cinna fixes it to the knot in my scarf.

Effie Trinket's nearby, clapping her hands, "Attention everyone! We're about to go outside for the surprise!" She says, and I don't exaggerate when I say she all but shoves me out the door.

For a moment I don't quite see anything because of the thick heavy snow that is now falling. Cinna coughs, one of those fake 'this way' ones and immediately I turn my attention towards him.

"Surprise." He whispers.

I face back, my perfected eyebrows raised. Straight in front of my house is a hill, which in the summer is a array of different colours, and in winter is the perfect place for having fun with Prim. But today, on top of the hill is my favourite person.

Cato.

I don't have to tell my legs to run, they're doing it without being asked. They already knew what I wanted. The usual thirty seconds it takes seems longer now but in all honesty, I don't care. I crash into him, but he catches me and spins me around. I wrap my legs around his waist and place my head into the crook of his neck. Smelling him. The musky metallic smell that for some reason, I can't help but love. Cato is still spinning around with me, and I can't help but let out a laugh.

"I've missed that sound." He murmurs.

Suddenly, he loses his balance and slips. We fall onto the snow, me on top of him, and that's where we have our first kiss in months. When I pull away Cato's lips form a mocking pout, and then I see the mischievous look in his eyes.

Cato flips us, so that he's on top, but as we're on a hill we fall. We roll down, Cato wrapping his arms around my waist to keep us together. Snow and grass collect up in our hair, I can almost hear Veina, Octavia and Flavius' shrieks of horror. Both of us laugh our heads off when we halt at the bottom, a mess of tangled limbs. Cato is still half on top of me, smiling. He shakes his hair over me, my face scrunches up as the wet cool melted snow hits it. He stands up and offers me his hand which I gratefully take. Standing up he pulls me close to him with an arm around my waist.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi." I say breathlessly.

"I've missed you." He says, never once taking his eyes off mine.

"Glad to hear it," I joke. Trying with all seriousness not to laugh.

"You're a rubbish lier." He rolls his eyes.

"Oh but I can try." I say with a massive smirk.

"Try later, baby." He mocks.

I burst into fits, "Baby?" Cato has never been one for the cheesy remarks and cliché nicknames.

"I was mocking Katniss, mocking" he sighs.

"Yeah, right." I laugh.

The rest of the day is a blur. Saying goodbye, getting to the station, the train pulling out. We all have a delicious meal- Cato, Haymitch, Effie, Cinna, Brutus and I- one that I can't remember but know it tasted exceptional.

Everyone tells us to go to bed early, a big, big, big day ahead of us tomorrow. I walk over to my compartment and change into my pyjamas. I slip into my larger than needed bed and sink into the mattress just as Cato walks in.

"Well well," he laughs, walking over and slipping in beside me.

"This is new," I query.

"Stop complaining and sleep, Katniss." He pulls my body flush against his and wraps his arm over me, effectively trapping me against him. The warmth from his body radiates out, I feel my pyjama top and back sticking to his exposed chest already. We don't care though.

For once I fall asleep without remembering, without thinking.


End file.
